


Saudade

by greglet



Series: Spacesuits and Satellites [4]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greglet/pseuds/greglet
Summary: Mark Watney's funeral was a world wide event, hailed as a poignant success. Mindy, in the midst of the attendees, finds herself struggling with the facade.





	Saudade

As always, when things go wrong to this sort of extent, the damage is irreversible before anyone can comprehend it. Not a room of NASA scientists and engineers. Not NASA managers or directors. Not even satellite engineers who were watching the storm build for days.

Logically they could never have really done more than they did. The warnings they sent were based on the most expert opinions which studied only the most accurate of evidence as they vigilantly watched the clouds turn and twist through the satellites. But ultimately, they weren’t there, they couldn’t _feel_ the storm, they couldn’t _contextualise_ the winds in situ. No, that gut instinct of whether to run for shelter or to brave the beating was down to Commander Melissa Lewis and regardless of what that instinct told her, that decision would be history.

But it wasn’t meant to be history like this. The choice was made to save the crew, to protect the souls in her care. Not the opposite. As the crew, all six, had made their way to the MAV an impossible gust of wind lifted a satellite dish that killed Mark Watney on impact. The crew’s life signs were constantly running in the background of the main screen in SatCon, but when Mark’s stopped there was a brief moment of disbelief - of hope for a technical error, of storm damage corrupting the signal - of _anything_. Breaking the initial confusion were the strained updates from Lewis. Her unnerved voice yelling his name as the winds howled around her played at full volume in a silent satcon. The end result was that Mark was dead on Mars and the rest of the crew were in the MAV heading to the Hermes in a stunned, sick distraught.

Satcon attempted a jump to action, but there was no action to be completed. They could do nothing other than feel their hearts drop, their stomachs twist, and the despair run in a glacial spill down their spine. Many workers stood by their desks, propelled to their feet by shock, but left immobile in blatant horror.

Mindy was no exception. Her hands framed the dread on her face and as people ran around her and shouted across the room. It became background noise as her eyes filled up and lined tracks down her cheeks. The need for those tears to remain silent in work moulded a lump in her throat that impaired her breathing to erratic shallow breaths. The minute she shut her apartment door behind her, the lump dissolved as she wheezed through sobs for hours, letting phosphenes flood her eyes; deciding that seeing blurred lights and shapes was better than her reality.

Pulling herself back to the present with rhythmic brushstrokes, keeping her hair straight and flat; her usual soft waves feeling too much of an inappropriate effort for today’s agenda. She tugged at the skirt of her dress to pull out a few folds and creases before stepping away from her mirror. Placing a light silver chain around her wrist, she shook it into place, considered it for a moment, and took it off with a frown. The frustration at feeling so out of routine and lost for regime sat in her tensed shoulders, and hadn’t moved for two days. Mindy knew her back would be in knots until next week, but with the way she was expecting to feel in an hour, she was almost glad it was only her back that was in knots right now. Purposefully taking long strides so her new kitten wouldn’t find an opportunity to jump up and wash her black dress in white fur, she stepped into the small plain heels she had by the door and picked up her bag to route around in. Keys, phone, purse, work identification badge and tissues were all there and she had no more excuses. She had to leave. She had to go. Today was Mark Watney’s funeral and she had to go.

As she sat in the back of the taxi, a silence fell over Mindy. She didn’t want to talk to the driver about the weather or whether his shift was busy. Mindy just wanted to concentrate on not falling apart in the back of a cab. Her thoughts drifted with the motions of the taxi, and soon she was trying to figure out why she felt so odd. It wasn’t the rawness of a family member passing, but it wasn’t the sympathy for a distant neighbour either. It was a pain of an undefined relationship. It was a twist of homesickness for a type of comfort she didn’t realise she had carved for herself. This man was a colleague, in a sense, but one she had never met. Mindy had only set eyes on him from across the room twice or so in the months leading up to his journey - she had seen him more in the television interviews and in the photos on the NASA email blasts. Mindy could only describe his character from the few personality markers she had picked up from seeing him in the public eye; it would be anyone’s guess as to how he really was as a person.

Yet, she couldn’t really let herself believe that. Mark was always a very open looking man, always cheery, made everyone around him relax and he could do it with a grin alone. Never had she heard less than sparkling words about him, and never had she felt as if any member of staff working in the background of the crews’ mission were beneath them; it was a truly positive dynamic from the crew to the staff, and it absolutely stemmed from the outpouring friendliness and sense of community of Mark Watney.

As much as she tried to curb the tears building in her eyes, she couldn’t distance herself from the emotions of the day. Mark Watney had went to Mars with all the good will, best hopes, and intentions of humanity and it hadn’t been enough to get him home. It was a broken journey, a cancelled return, and it was in the suddenness of the loss and the lost possibilities of the rest of his life that upset Mindy. Mark Watney didn’t deserve his fate. He didn’t deserve to be left on Mars. To be left in an endless state. In an oblivion.

Mindy clawed her way back to dry eyes and left her thoughts of unfinished travel in the back of the cab as she stepped out to a small cemetery on a hill. It could have been a nice service - the flower arrangements by the headstone were well suited, the attendees were quiet and genuinely mournful, the minister stood with a small group of people listening in earnest, but what spoiled it was the group of reporters standing behind a police line littered with cameras and video recorders waiting to capture the touching speeches. They were a blight on the mood of the day, but she supposed it was only a reminder of the signature Mark Watney had left while he was stretching the reach of humanity. Although that signature had now morphed into a scar.

As Mindy stepped towards Mr Kapoor and gave him a small stilted smile in response to his nod hello, he continued to chat quietly to someone she didn’t recognise. Mindy didn’t listen, her eyes had settled on an image of confined pain that took her attention. Across the gravel road where Mindy stood, and at the far side of the empty plot for for an empty coffin, stood a short woman in black dabbing at the corner of reddened eyes under the arm of a much taller man. Neither of the pair were talking, but the minister had gravitated beside them looking to absorb some of their grief. The woman had bobbed dark hair and sallow skin, but had this been another place and time, it would be clear that age had not dampened her looks. Her eyes were glazed and she looked removed as if she was somewhere else completely, but held within a perpetual moment of shock and black agony. The lady’s husband was a head taller, and looked beyond his setting to the tall pine trees at the perimeter of the yard. His eyes were dry, but here was a firmness in his mouth that told Mindy he was very much on an edge. The man had an unmistakable look about him; tall, broad, a suggestion in the way he held himself of a kick in his personality - a gait too ingrained to falter even here, but most catching were the warm blue eyes Mindy could identify from across a room already. A generation older, greyer, and with a few more lines Mark would never gain. There was no doubt these were Mark’s parents.

Curiosity let Mindy’s eyes follow the couple as they moved, understated, between crowds to their seats. The husband rubbed softly at his wife’s shoulder as she pressed her tissue to her eyes again. It was now that Mindy realised that for all the interviews, and emails, conversations and meetings she had seen where the crew had been brought up, no one had ever mentioned the families. The real sacrifices. Obviously, they were all aware the sacrifices existed, but seeing two parents having lost their son before a bodiless service takes place in front of thirty-odd cameras was sobering. She supposed it was on purpose; these astronauts are professionals, doing a job, fitting a role… it wouldn’t be healthy to remind them of what they could be losing while they’re gone. It wouldn’t be healthy to remind the relations stuck on Earth what they were letting go. Especially when it could lead to exactly this.

Mindy followed Kapoor to sit somewhere in the middle of the horseshoe arrangement of seats around a lectern that was a few feet away from the the stone. From where they sat, Mindy could make out that the stone had been engraved, but what it said was indecipherable from her place. She wondered if she could be as bold as to visit it after the service. It looked too conservative for what it represented, in her opinion. It wasn’t very ‘Mark Watney’, from what she could gather of him. A simple stone, some pretty flowers in neutral tones, and a nice plot under a tree that swayed gently in the wind. Mindy wondered if the tall elm would have been a preferred pick for Mark, as, after all, being a botanist, he would have definitely had a list of favourite trees.

A brief crease settled between her brows as she realised that it wasn’t really for Mark. This funeral was for NASA, and for the rest of the world, to say goodbye to someone they didn’t know. To let go of a person they were only familiar with through NASA approved messages. Mindy hoped there was another service for his family and friends back home in Chicago, somewhere familiar where they can grieve in private and just embrace the devastation.

Mindy looked up again towards Mark’s parents, trying to send them as much sympathy and empathy as she could muster. The cameras were rolling to record their decorum at their son’s public send off.

“It’s not fair.” Mindy muttered to Venkat at her side.

“What isn’t? That he died?”

“No, well, yeah, that too, but… his parents - they’re under so much pressure today and they’re the last ones who need it.” Mindy lifted a hand to gesture towards them, but stopped before it was any more than a flick - she didn’t want anyone to think she was talking about them, or setting them out, or adding any more eyes to their back.

“It’s gotta be done, Mindy, it’s the way of things.” Venkat replied with a soft shrug. “They had a say in a few things today, but regardless of what they wanted, there were some official things that had to happen - the flags, the speech from Teddy, the media… there’s a guidebook.”

“There’s a guidebook for funerals?”

“‘Course - so we know what to do when we don’t know what to do.”

Mindy’s mouth tightened in response, thinking how it might have been a little more genuine not to know what to do in this situation. But, again, if she thought about it in terms of respect, having a plan laid out like this so everything was taken care of and there was no fumbling about or mixed words, it would be better for Mark’s memory. Not that he would really know, she supposed.

As the silence amongst the guests drew ever more still, the minister approached the lectern to welcome everyone to a service no one wanted to be at. The opening remarks were nice, Mindy admitted, full of poetic language to express the absolute misery of the situation in the most vague and rose-tinted way. The minister stepped straight into the eulogy, painting Mark as Mindy would have; a shining personality with an unbearably bright sense of humour that rolled into mischievous streak when he found a chance. A loyal friend, a fierce believer in the sciences, and as green fingered as it was possible to be. Life grew under his touch. When the minister mentioned being a cubs fan, Mark’s mom, who had been named as Patricia, dipped her head and covered her eyes with her hand. Maybe it was the prospect of never going to another game with him, or never hearing him complain about the team and their losses, but Mindy could tell that it was something other people would consider insignificant that had tipped her to tears. It was then that her husband, David, stretched to his wife’s handbag to bring out a new packet of tissues and a small bear with a blue shirt on with a large red ‘C’ on the front. Setting the cub in his wife’s lap, she took the tissues first and then clung to the teddy, her fingers deep under the fur, trying to cling onto reality and not get lost in her upset. David’s hand closed over Patricia’s and Mindy looked back down to her own hands, clasped tightly in her lap, through watering eyes.

“And this is our way of thanking Mark for pushing our human print a little further out than it was before, which is something we all aim for - to leave a m-signature for the future.” Mindy caught the stumble immediately. ‘To leave a mark’ was what the minister _almost_ said. To leave a mark, she thought sourly, was exactly what had happened.

It wasn’t fair to point fingers, or to consider blaming someone - there was no responsibility to take for this disaster. Mark knew he was paying for this trip with his life, that he would be lucky to return home… and how could she argue against Commander Lewis? Commander Lewis was Commander for a reason - she had the safety of all the souls in her crew as absolute priority and Mindy trusted her implicitly despite never having met her either. Still, it was hard not to think that something could have been done better or quicker when she was sitting at a funeral she didn’t want to be at. It would only take until her thoughts were clearer to know that anything different in that situation would have been impossible.

“Now, NASA Director Teddy Sanders would like to say a few words.” The minister left the lectern with a small nod of thanks and respect as Teddy walked past him, buttoning the top button on his jacket.

Teddy’s speech was not dissimilar to the ministers; leaning to hope for the future and thanks for Mark’s contribution. It was what the world would stamp as ‘respectful, poignant in places, and personal’, but Mindy knew a template speech when she heard one. Eventually, the usual human reach and future exploration flowery prose signalled the last paragraph. When it came to the last thank you and the last solemn goodbye, there was an unenthusiastic round of applause that died as quickly as it started. It only marked the fact that a speech happened, nothing more. Mindy didn’t join in. Her eyes too busy being unfocused on the jacket tail of the stranger in front of her in the attempt to stop tears running too quickly down her cheeks. She didn’t know Mark, but this wasn’t good enough for him. He didn’t deserve this.

At the sound of a lone singer starting on a soft and slow version of a hymn she knew from her childhood, she looked up to see Mark’s parents stepping towards the side of the empty grave. Tall men with broad shoulders stepped around them to the coffin like pallbearers, hands clasped in front of themselves like soldiers waiting for orders. As the minister pointed to the thick ropes that lay in coils by the side of the casket, they each took a knot. The casket lowered easily with the help of the fandangled electric whatever that NASA splashed for. This meant, however, that these pallbearers looked helpless, almost comedic, as their strength was obsolete for today’s funeral.

A wash of discomfort rinsed over Mindy as she watched the pallbearers drop a coil of rope onto the coffin and Mark’s parents step up to place some sentimental items in with the ropes. She thought again with a rush of anger that this was only a cover for NASA, really. Losing one astronaut was bad press and bad press meant less funding, and especially so when you lose your most personable astronaut of the crew. In putting on this bleak funeral, NASA ensure that they look as human as they can so as to dig for sympathy rather than scorn from investors. Running her index finger along her eyes to clear up the tear she felt escape, she set her jaw and flicks her eyes off into the distance in the hope to lead her thoughts elsewhere.

The minister returned to the lectern once he finished talking over Mark’s plot to say a few parting words of thanks and that while the world feels Mark’s loss so deep right now, time will wear at the sharp black edges. Something in Mindy wanted to refuse this, to acknowledge that the sharp black edges is what Mark should have in everyone - to always be remembered and always sorely missed. Maybe she was being dramatic, that the despair in the atmosphere was manipulating her thoughts, but she knew herself and she thought of Mark as so blindingly vital to her universe that thinking of him as dead, or even just gone, was too much to deal with. It seemed that although she had never met him, and could only craft her idea of him from different sources, there was a part of her that felt connected to him. A part of her that also relied on the fact that the crew were a team of six and Mark was there. Every day she went to work, Mark was in training or in space or on Mars. He was there, somewhere. She didn’t think about him every day specifically, or any of the crew, but they were there. They were her purpose. She was watching data in relation to their mission for them. She was accounting for different situations from the weather to the atmospheric changes, _for them_.

Another few tears ran down her cheeks as some of the crowd stood to disperse. She followed with a sniff, fishing her tissues out her bag.

“Are you heading straight to work?” Venkat asked behind her, politely ignoring her dabbing her eyes.

“No, I think I want to take some time to fix my mood before I go to work.” Mindy answered vaguely, not indicating what sort of mood it was.

“Alright, but if you take more than a couple of days, then-”

“Oh, no, I was thinking like an hour or two, I just wanted to stop by the headstone and then stare at a blank wall in a cafe somewhere and adjust to reality again.”

“Alright, well, I’ll see you back there then - good luck adjusting.”

Mindy nodded as Venkat turned and filed out the row of seats to find Mitch and a few other higher-ups to head back to work, seemingly unaffected by the whole show. On her right, the camera crews were dismantling their equipment and firing their things back in their vans, moving on to the next story without lingering or pausing to send even a flick of respect. Mindy lingered too, but after making her way from somewhere in the middle of the horseshoe of chairs to one at the front, she sat and watched the space clear of people, leaving smaller groups behind.

Someone she recognised from work, but not from her department gave her a half smile from a distance, testing to see whether or not she was approachable. Mindy returned the smile and gave a half wave, which they took as a welcome to come over. Mindy didn’t know his name, but she was sure she had seen him in tow with Annie at some point.

“What did you think?” With a nod of his head he pointed back towards the lectern that was being removed from the stand.

“Not great.” Mindy said, as honestly as she could be with someone who was mostly a stranger. “You?”

“Pretty good way of covering their asses for any future funding, I think.”

Mindy smirked, but the disdain in the mutual feeling won and pulled her face blank again.

“Yeah… All very sterile.” Mindy mused, watching the minister with his hand on Mrs Watney’s shoulder.

“I’m Jason, I’m in social media relations, and I’m sorry I don’t know your name, but you’re in satellites, right?”

Mindy, who lost her will to talk nodded before taking a moment to offer up her own name.

“Did you know him?” Jason asked while taking a seat beside her.

“Not really, but I know that this shouldn’t be what Mark’s funeral looks like.”

“Yeah, I think everyone feels the same way - this is what every astronauts funeral looks like, but not what the person behind the suit’s funeral should be.”

Mindy nodded again, still not finding the energy to properly engage in conversation.

“I’m heading back to the office soon - do you want to share a cab? I have one waiting by the gates-”

“Oh, no, thanks, I’m going home first - need to fix my mood before I go back there.” Mindy offered him a tight smile and looked back to her feet. Jason astutely took the cue, supposed aloud that they might run into each other another time and left her.

Once Jason left, she knew she couldn’t hang around for much longer - she had no one else she recognised, but she also wouldn’t be able to bring herself back here at a later date to revisit the stone. This would be her one and only time at Mark Watney’s graveside, she promised herself that.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she walked towards the stone as a couple of mourners stepped away from it. Mindy stopped just at the freshly laid topsoil, careful not to step any further, and raised her eyes to the inscription.

_Mark Watney,_

_Dearest son,_

_Resting amongst the stars before his time_

_Part of the AresIII crew_

The corner of Mindy’s mouth tightened, holding back a swift surge of sadness. Although it wasn’t wordy, it was soft, and possibly the most appropriate part of today. It was also true, he was dead several decades before his time - years of possibilities taken away from him in the dark of a storm. That also wasn’t fair. Mindy’s eyes unfocused on the stone, thinking how much he would be missed and what would be missing from the rest of the AresIII mission, from the AresIV mission and anything else remotely to do with Mars. There would be gaps, and sentences unfinished, things completely unsaid when Mars came up in conversation now. There would be solemn memorials and anniversaries to grieve through, too. Mindy wondered if the AresIV crew would stop their duties for a moment or two to remember Mark’s loss on the second anniversary. If NASA would pause in the working day to acknowledge the fifth anniversary, if anyone would take notice of the tenth. Mindy, too deep in the gaps to come, didn’t hear the tentative footsteps behind her.

“I think he’d have rolled his eyes or scrunched his nose at ‘dearest son’ - say something like ‘I was the only son, obviously I’d be the ‘dearest’’.”

Looking over her shoulder, the woman Mindy pieced together earlier as Mark’s mom, and heard her named as Patricia stood behind her, her sparkless blue eyes fixed on the words of the stone.

“He could never stop himself making a sarcastic remark or some sort of joke - always trying to be the comedian… but he was funnier than he knew when he stopped trying.” Patricia’s eyes welled up again and Mindy turned to face her, her sympathy so desperate she only wished she could somehow convey the emotion better.

“Mrs Watney, I’m so sorry - for this - I just can’t-” Patricia nodded, a small smile of thanks and understanding gone too quickly from her lips.

“Did you know him?” She asked, looking at Mindy for the first time.

“No, not really, I never met him, but I did see him across the room a few times and he was so bright - you couldn’t miss him in a crowd…” Mindy stopped, suddenly not knowing what to say to her, and not wanting to say sorry any more in case it highlighted the fact that he died. Although, she knew that it would be hard to shy away from that at his funeral. Instead, she thought honesty would serve best. “This might be out of line, but I don’t think this service was good enough… he deserved more.”

Patricia took Mindy’s hand and squeezed it once, giving her a tight smile as she did.

“Thank you for saying that, it’s good to know someone else could tell.”

“I do like the inscription though,” Mindy said, looking over her shoulder to the stone, not wanting to move too quickly and drop out of Patricia’s grasp. “I think it’s very true.” Mindy quickly winced as she said it, realising it didn’t sound as well put as it did in her head.

“Thank you, it’s the only thing we had a say in.” At the mention of ‘we’, Patricia dropped Mindy’s hand and looked behind her for her husband who was a few steps away talking to the minister still. Turning back to Mindy, Patricia gave her another smile, “It’s a shame you never met him, I think you would have got on well.”

Mindy, unsure what to say to that, gave a small smile in response as Patricia worried her lip and frowned.

“I know he’s not there,” She started quietly, her eyes set on the headstone, “But I feel like I’m leaving him here alone every time I turn away.”

Mindy was starting to feel far out of her depth, not sure what to think never mind what to say - and whether she would even trust herself to speak through the lump in her throat that was growing by the moment. She nodded, if only to acknowledge that Patricia had spoke, before trying to piece something together in response.

“Mrs Watney, I know that if my mom had to deal with this sort of thing, she’d have the same dilemma - and I wouldn’t be surprised if she brought a tent - even though I’d feel as if she was punishing herself for something she had no control over…”

“I could’ve talked him out of it.” She replied.

“I don’t think anyone could’ve talked him out of it.” Mindy whispered.

Tight lipped, Patricia nodded in silent admission that Mindy was right; this sort of opportunity came for Mark and he had grabbed it with both hands - risk included. There would have been no one on this planet, or the next, who could have convinced Mark not to go to Mars.

The minister stepped behind Patricia to ask if she was okay and to tell her that while the group had dispersed, she was welcome to stay. It was a soft nudge for her to say goodbye to the headstone and the empty grave for today and she took it with a nod. Turning to Mindy she gave her a small smile again.

“Thank you for chatting with me-” The look of sudden realisation brought a presence back to Patricia’s eyes for a brief moment. “I’m sorry - I didn’t get your name.”

“Mindy - Mindy Park.”

A smile was Mrs Watney’s response, but the presence in her eyes faded as her gaze slid back to the stone behind Mindy that sank Patricia back to the black.

**Author's Note:**

> who saw this coming?? not me
> 
> every time i rewatch the movie or reread the book im like 
> 
> ......damn....... i didn't see that before [time to write 5k about it]
> 
> bc. ofc. the minute i finished this i started something else...possibly a follow on?? but certainly something that won't be a second chapter....... something.... odd... something that i promised no one even though i know there are still things i promised that i havent covered and remember that christmas fic? wow... christmas #2018 here we go /:
> 
> anyways, yous know the drill by now - tell me all your thoughts in the comments or in my ask on my tumblr (@greglet)
> 
> please and thanks!!!!!!!
> 
> hope you enjoyed the bleakest thing i've written yet :D
> 
> also, p.s;
> 
> * Saudade (noun) A nostalgic longing to be near again to something distant or someone that is distant.


End file.
